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Rauf
On the eve of May 9, 1519, Rauf was kicked out of yet another tavern reeking of spilled mead and sweat. His clothes covered in grime from the fields, face and neck dripping with blood from his freshly cracked nose. Too drunk to feel, as was his usual week-end ritual, he casually wiped his face with a muddy rag and spit the residual blood-phlegm toward the door. Wavering, he staggered behind the building to take a piss and decide his next move. ' The streets were busy this evening, all the celebratory energy of the Beltane Festival still lingering in the dewy spring air. His pockets empty and his belly full of ale & wine, Rauf thuds up against the wall nearly falling into his own urine puddle. He laughs, more blood drooling from his split lip.' ' He was about 19 at this point, unmarried, living rough, helping as a farm hand when he needed coin & drinking it away almost immediately. 'Twas better than the life he left, one of 8 sons to a fisherman, a life of brine and isolation at sea was a hell he aimed to avoid. Charming his way into cities was now second nature for him, and a drifter he would remain for much longer than he anticipated. In cities, the deafening sounds of horsehoofs, brawls, and moaning whores thrilled him. He could truly feel alone, and yet could always find a friend. This night was no different.' ' "You look like you had a rough night," a feminine voice coos from the darkness behind him. The full moon illuminated behind the clouds made for blurry silhouettes as it was. Rauf's drunk vision wasn't helping.' ' "Aye, nothing Iain't used to. Ya lookin' fer trouble miss?" He slurred, eyes barely open, as he wriggled his pants back up.' ' The woman exhales her pipe and takes a step closer. Once in the moonlight, Rauf could make out the elaborate corset, the shimmering jewelry and tatterless skirts. Her bodice unbuttoned at the neckline revealed a pale bosom, tightly bound and quite sizable for her petite frame. Her hair was unkempt, long black curls framing her face. She smiled, "Oh, I'm certain I've found just what I'm looking for. Care for a drink back at my place?" She extends a hand to him, and gestures toward the black carriage led by a black horse tucked back in the shadows on the edge of town.' ' Rauf, being a young single drunk mess of a boy, carelessly agrees, thinking he could likely pocket a bottle or two of fine wine from this Misses home. He reaches for her hand as she pulls it away, falling to his knees before her. "Oh, you truly are perfect boy. Follow me." She spins, kicking up some of the dirt onto Rauf's stained britches, as he rights himself and sways toward the carriage. Once inside, he dozes off, as the carriage fills with smoke.' '------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------' ' They arrive at the castle gates about an hour later. The creaking of the rusted iron doors wakes Rauf with a start, forgetting where and how he got into this leather lined carriage. He looks up at the woman staring at him, a veil covering the top of her face.' ' "I think I've been here once before, for a masked ball a couple weeks ago." he mutters, trying to make out his surroundings in the foggy moonlight.' ' "I sincerely doubt that." She says coldly. At the door of the castle she exits the carriage swiftly, leaving Rauf to his own sloppy manner to follow. Inside the castle, he is rushed by the staff and taken to a room with a hot bath and fresh clothes laid out on the bed. He is stripped and in the tub before he can protest, and three maids scrub the grime and blood from his slender yet defined frame. As quickly as he was bathed, he is dressed, and led back out to the main hall.' ' When he enters the parlor, the room goes quiet. He guesses about 20 people, all nude save for their feathered and bejeweled masks, gaze at him from their varying positions. The floor is draped with velvet and goblets of red viscous liquid are littered around the room. The woman that escorted him here approaches from across the room, now wearing only her underbust corset and veil. Rauf's intoxication was wearing off just enough for him to feel...fear.' ' She gets close to his face, as the maids still hold his hands steady. Her veil is lifted to reveal blood red eyes, and she stares hard into his own blue ones. "Ready for the time of your life, boy?" she taunts, grabs his shoulder, and thrusts him down on the velvet. She shouts something in Latin, and the guests cheer, grabbing a goblet to toast. Rauf, confused but not one to turn down a good time, also reaches for a goblet and takes a swig. He gags, and spews the liquid out all over his new white linens. The taste of iron still lingering in his mouth. The couple closest to him reach for his chest and lick the spit blood off, tearing his shirt in the process. A man comes up behind him, groping his ass and thighs, kissing and licking his neck. Several other bodies join in, licking him wherever they could and slowly tearing away the thin fabric from his lithe body. Rauf begins to sweat, terrified and aroused and drunk he screams for help. A hand bashes his nose again, breaking open a new path of blood to pour over his face. Suddenly a mouth is on his, kissing him with a hunger he has never experienced.' ' There came a scratch on his ankle, one more on his back, and he feels the wet blood stream out, sticky between him and this orgy he has succumbed to. A small blond makes her way to his lap, putting him inside her as another cuts at his chest. Rauf begins to realize what will come next. A mouth on his wrist turns to teeth, and sharp fangs dig deep into his forearm. He screams, which seems to arouse the crowd around him more. Another set of teeth bite into the side of his stomach, and another on his calf, until eventually the pain and pleasure entwine so much so he begins to lose consciousness. A mouth latched onto his throat prevents him from screaming any further. As he drifts off to eternal sleep, he locks eyes with the Red Eyed Lady and sees her smile, fangs and all.' '------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------' ' Everything is cold. The stone floor of the parlor stained with blood and other fluids remained filthy around him. Rauf's eyes slowly blinked open, his body feeling bruised, heavy, sore, abused, and content. Face down, he turns his head to see the wrist he remembers getting sucked dry. It was blue, crusted with blood, and in a lot of pain. They didn't kill me, he thought, when surely I was destined to die. Too weak to lift himself yet, he laid on the floor of the seemingly empty castle, as the sunlight poked through the drapery, making a line on the floor. Hours went by, the line moved accordingly. He remained on his side, in limbo between life and death, drifting in and out of consciousness, contemplating whether his family will know, whether anyone would care.' ' The sun line drifted over his exposed toes, which felt like fire had been set to them. He managed to pull his foot closer to him, not understanding how the sun could do that. He labored in the hot sun for hours at a time, the most he would turn is pink. Something was certainly wrong. Just let me die, he thought, as he passed out once again.' ' He would never forget the night of May 9, 1519.'